


Every Version of Me

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019, Charlie Bradbury (SPN), Inspired by Art, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mentions of Forced Transition Elements, NSFW Art, Original Character(s), Pride, Trans Character, Trans!Bucky Barnes, ftm bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: “Honey, maybe the decision of when a person became transgender… is just as bullshit of a concept as gender itself is. Who the fuck cares? Life is fluid. Gender is fluid. I need some fluid. Let’s get a beer.”Bucky Barnes is following his therapist's advice and learning a bit about the history surrounding the LGBTQ community. He missed a lot, while in the service of the enemy, so it seems only appropriate to catch up, starting with the Stonewall Riots of 1969.





	Every Version of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [longhairedbucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairedbucky/gifts).



> A few things of importance, before we start:
> 
> 1) This story wouldn't be what it is without the help of my cheer squad, and without the amazing art provided by [longhairedbucky.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairedbucky) They opened my eyes to a portrayal of Bucky Barnes that I never knew I needed!
> 
> 2) At some point this became incredibly therapeutic for me. Especially as I got to delve into the history of Stonewall and the beginning of PRIDE. I want to make it clear, though, that I am not transgender, so I've done my best (with the help of my artist and a trans friend) to make this as accurate as possible, and I hope that no one finds too much fault with anything contained within. If there is something you find troublesome, please feel free to politely let me know. 
> 
> 3) As far as warnings go, there is discussion of what I would deem 'forced transition' -- essentially Bucky was slowly working his way towards understanding himself, when Hydra decided a perfect soldier _had_ to be male. It is not the main focus in anyway, but I feel it needs a warning.
> 
> 4) Also, one last little thing: it was very important to me that this story didn't contain any derogatory language towards the LGBTQ community. As a member of that community, I felt it wasn't right to give light to words that I would never want thrown in my face. At one point someone attempts to say one of these words... and Bucky promptly puts him in his place. ;)
> 
> Please enjoy!

Even after having all of the conditioning erased from his mind, he doesn’t remember a lot from the start. A lot of what he knows is completely based on what he’s seen in history books and on the internet. In the early 1940’s a female by the name of Rebecca Barnes disguised herself as a man so that she could fight in the second world war. James “Bucky” Barnes was born. At some point it became less of a means of being secure in the army, and more of an identity. 

Later on, when he spoke to a well-paid therapist about what he knew, the man would nod knowingly at him. _Why not become a nurse?_ he would ask. _Because I wanted to fight._ It was completely valid and reasonable, but when it was brought out that at any point he could have changed back, Bucky learned about a term called body dysmorphia.

* * *

The soviets used both versions as they saw fit; an assassin that they could dress up like a doll, and get into any number of parties. He was one of the first graduates of the Red Room, though he couldn’t remember anything from those days — beyond the fluent Slavic and ability to kill a man with one well placed blow to his penis. 

Hydra, when they bought him back, went back to their original plans. Recreating the supersoldier serum that Erskine had perfected. He didn’t have many actual memories of what Hydra had done to him, but he had done his share of research into it when he was no longer their brainwashed pet. Apparently when the 107th had originally been captured (back when Steve had rushed in like a mad man to save them), Bucky was the only one that the serum didn’t immediately kill. Which made them all incredibly angry, because how could a ‘perfect’ soldier ever be female? Before they could do anything about that fact, though, he had been rescued and Hydra had lost track of their perfect specimen. When they got him back, decades later, they moved forward with their plan: giving him additional doses of their serum, all laced with high doses of testosterone. That, added to a breast augmentation surgery, was how Hydra created their perfect Winter Soldier.

When he was finally back in Steve’s care, stripping down the layers of trauma translated into more issues than first presented with. The Avengers, like everyone in the world, knew the history book version of his life. He was a champion for women’s rights and equality, held in high-estimate like the women who used to dress up as men and star in Shakespeare’s plays. But putting on that persona felt like a lie. If he had ever truly been comfortable as Rebecca Barnes, he couldn’t remember it. All he knew was _Bucky._ Bucky was the whisper of a name that broke through years of brainwashing. It was memories of a man fighting nazis side by side with _Captain America_. If he wasn’t the Winter Soldier… he could only be Bucky, right?

It was… it was who he was.

“It’s okay, James,” Dr. Wesson spoke. “It is okay to accept that this person you are now, is who you are meant to be. Why don’t we focus less on trying to find Rebecca, and more on trying to settle into Bucky?”

* * *

When he left his appointment, Steve was waiting outside for him, looking casually awkward. “Sometimes you still look like a tiny awkward thing,” Bucky mused, turning and beginning to walk east, toward the tower.

Steve fell into step with him, without question or hesitation. “Makes sense, because sometimes I still feel like that guy.”

“You wanna do lunch?”

A pout developed on Steve’s face. “I wish I could. I’m do back for a meeting. I just wanted to make sure you got back okay.” 

A part of him wanted to call Steve out on his hovering — but the last time he had, Bucky had dealt with the full brunt of a ‘Rogers pout’ for over a week, and it was just easier to let the man hover sometimes. Once they were back at the tower, and riding the elevator up to the Avenger apartments near the top floor, Bucky reassured Steve that he had enough to do to keep himself busy while he was left alone. 

“My therapist wants me to do homework. So go, leave me alone.” The doors opened to the floor they shared, and Bucky was halfway out the door, before Steve grabbed onto his metal prosthetic and reeled him back close. 

Steve kissed him, quick and chaste, leaving a smile on both of their faces. “Goodbye, Buck,” he said, cheeks a little pink as the elevator doors slid closed.

It was things like that, that he had discussed with Dr. Wesson. Because kissing Steve was easy and enjoyable, but they had never gone farther than kisses and light touching. Not as two men. As teenagers, long before Rebecca became Bucky, they had fucked a few times. When Steve wasn’t sick and Bucky was tired of the douchebags that he’d meet at dancehalls. But when Bucky… _transitioned_ (as Dr. Wesson pointed out was the appropriate term), life became about the military and about Captain America. War didn’t leave much time for sex, and they were both two men that didn’t understand their new bodies.

But as he settled into himself and fully accepted that Rebecca was a thing of the past… well, he needed to find some damn confidence. He wanted to get to that point with Steve. He wanted to enjoy intimacy with his best guy, without voices in his head talking too loud for him to enjoy the moment. 

_’Do some research. Look into the Stonewall riots of the 60s, talk to people who have experienced the slow growth of equality. They will know what you are feeling, and be able to provide advice for issues you might have.’_

He spent the rest of the day looking over information about Stonewall and other LGBTQ topics of interest. An hour (or five) was devoted to learning all of the different terms for sexuality and gender. A lot of the information made him intensely angry. It was one thing to learn about the discrimination from outside parties, but it was completely different to learn that the different factions of the group would sometimes discriminate against each other. It brought up memories of the 30s and 40s… watching Jewish people be thrown into camps and murdered, just because they dared to worship a different way.

Humans were a very messed up society.

Reading everything was exhausting, and Bucky ended up skipping dinner in favor of sitting in the quiet space he had created in his bedroom. Steve was in and out of the apartment most of the afternoon, but since he knew that Bucky was usually mentally drained after his appointment, he didn’t interrupt.

* * *

Steve got called out on a mission the next day — and since missions rarely were bad enough to require Bucky’s help, he was left to his own devices in the tower. It was a good thing, though, because armed with the knowledge from the day before, he went out into the city and walked towards Greenwich Village. Modern day public transit was one of his worst nightmares. Enclosed space. Unknown people crowding around him. No clear exit path.

He would rather walk.

His first destination was Christopher Park, nestled between Christopher street and Grove street. In the sunlight gleaming through the nearby buildings, the white statues there stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the world. Slowly, he stepped forward, until he could reach his flesh hand out and gently touch the polished stone. He felt… odd. Peaceful yet angry. 

How many people had died? How many had taken their own lives? How many were _still_ fighting for equal rights? And one statue in the middle of a small park was supposed to… _what?_ Make up for all of that?

He thought back to the ridicule that had ran rampant in his youth. The things you didn’t speak about for fear of being imprisoned or killed. The hateful words thrown around with ease, whenever someone didn’t live up to society’s standards of what a man or woman should be.

He wanted to cry. He also wanted to _break_ something. Punch a bigot in the face.

“It’s alright, you know?”

He turned, guard going up quickly at the sound of a voice so close to him. He had been so focused on his own thoughts, that he hadn’t heard the movement.

Black hands were raised, palms out in a non-threatening way. Calming a wild beast, almost. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Bucky had learned from Dr. Wesson that it was important not to immediately judge someone’s gender based on appearance alone. _’It is their duty to decide, and it is your responsibility to ask, rather than assume. Show others the same respect you desire.’_ “I—”

“Sergeant Barnes, right?” A smile graced striking features, that had aged well. “I’m Devon.” 

The name and the smile definitely helped to calm him a bit, but… “How do you know who I am?”

“Honestly?” Devon moved to stand on the other side of the statue, allowing a better angle for conversing with Bucky. They leaned casually against it, but in a way that didn’t seem disgraceful, like it would if a regular person did it. Devon almost looked like they belonged there. “You’re kind of my hero? I would recognize you anywhere.”

“What?” Shock flowed through him, and he shook his head, looking around like he expected Hydra agents to flood the spot at any moment. “I’m no one’s hero. I’ve done so many—”

“Uh huh.” Devon nodded. “Bad things. Yup. Don’t care.” Bucky opened his mouth to keep arguing, but Devon held up a well manicured finger to stop him. “Don’t want to hear it, son. Oh… listen to me! Calling you son. What year were you born?”

He huffed a sort of laugh. “The museum says 1917.”

Devon brushed out their shirt and stood a bit straighter, almost as tall as Bucky. “Well, the 80s were rough, honey, so don’t give me too much shit about the grays.” Devon clapped, and motioned to their right. “You’re here to see it, right? Stonewall?”

He turned in that direction, looking at the row of brick buildings across the street. “Yeah.”

“They’re open. Let me buy you a drink. Ain’t very often a New York queer gets to meet the _only_ transgender superhero.”

Bucky began walking that way, and only startled a bit when Devon looped their arm through his metal one. “I’m not a superhero.”

“To a little black kid in the 60s, who never understood who they were or where they belonged, you practically hung the moon.” They waited at the crosswalk for the light to change, and Devon motioned a hand towards the Stonewall Inn, a couple buildings over. “I remember it, ya know? Was maybe eight or so, when it happened. Didn’t know back then that it would have such an impact on my life, but I knew that little boys weren’t supposed to like wearing dresses and kissing other boys.”

They started across the street, and Bucky found it hard to look away from that simple building. “Women weren’t supposed to join the army, either.”

“Nope.”

“That doesn’t…” A part of what Devon was saying continued to frustrate him. “That doesn’t make me a hero. Back then I wasn’t…” He frowned, the words getting a bit jumbled in his head. It made him stop walking, halfway to their destination. Devon turned to face him, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I was just doing it to protect the ones I love. I wasn’t trying to make history. To fight Nazis meant being male, so I became male and I played the part.” He motioned at his own body. “This? This came later. After…” a tap against his forehead, “all they did.”

Devon nodded. “So you don’t feel like you were transgender until what they did?”

“I don’t know.” It was one of the big things he kept circling around in therapy. Fighting with himself over whether there was supposed to be a defining moment that made him one thing or the other. “There wasn’t a word for it, back then. Well, there were, but they weren’t anything but hate in a pretty package. And the memory of how I felt is lost. All I can really remember is that it was _easier_ being male. But was it easier physically or mentally? I don’t know.”

Devon coaxed him into continuing to walk. “I have a friend named Beverly. Spent fifty years as a man. Woke up one day and started taking the steps to become the woman I know and love. Was she always uncomfortable before transitioning? Who knows! I’ve asked her… might be a little impolite, but impolite conversations happen when vodka is involved. Anywho, Bev couldn’t answer. Said sometimes it felt like life was normal, but some days she’d wake up and feel like a puppet in a play, just spouting lines and making movements to seem normal.” They got to the brick and plaster building with ‘Stonewall Inn’ on the door, and Devon stopped, letting Bucky stare at it for a moment. “Honey, maybe the decision of when a person became transgender… is just as bullshit of a concept as gender itself is. Who the fuck cares? Life is fluid. Gender is fluid. I need some fluid. Let’s get a beer.”

* * *

Devon frequented the Stonewall Inn enough to have a favorite spot and be called by name by the staff. After sitting and ordering, a few others joined them. It was like Devon would see a face, smile, and suddenly another chair would be brought to the table.

To his left sat Charlie, a spunky red-haired lesbian who wore a shirt that said _”Eat Out More”_. Bucky kind of loved her immediately and didn’t feel bad about spending a lot of his time talking to her, while the others drank and gossiped. Charlie was fascinated with his arm, and one drink down, Bucky smiled and flipped the mechanism that opened the control panel. "Have at it. You fuck anything up too bad, I'll just let Stark get his rocks off fixing it."

Charlie gasped. "Holy shit… why didn't I…" Her surprise wasn't focused on his arm though. "You know Tony Stark!"

"I do. I live two floors below him." He watched Charlie's eyes get big. "You're gonna wanna come visit, aren't you?"

"Oh God, I couldn't… no. I couldn't." She kept mumbling no as she leaned forward and started poking at the panel in his arm.

"Sergeant Barnes!" Bucky looked across the large table to see Devon smiling at him. "Marco wants to know if you'll come to the next drag night and bring your hot Captain friend." 

Bucky wouldn't have been able to say who Marco was… until he saw the guy next to Devon who was ducking and looking embarrassed. Bucky smirked. "You haven't seen nothin' until you've seen Captain America in drag."

The table let out a joyous whoop at his words. 

Steve would love all of them. They were so much like the people from their old neighborhood in Brooklyn…

Suddenly the mood shifted. The entire bar got quiet in a flash, focus going towards the front door. Bucky frowned in confusion. He first looked to Devon, who was glaring as they slowly stood. Then he looked to his left, where Charlie was carefully closing the control panel.

"We've had issues with assholes showing up and causing drama. Sounds like they're back and trying to start shit." Charlie looked incredibly concerned. "These same assholes followed Lucy home after she closed up a while back. One of them grabbed her and scared her. Happens every once in a while… we get bigots wanting to cause drama."

Bucky took all of that info in, before finally standing and calmly pushing his chair back in. He walked back to the front of the bar without much thought process. Lucy, a tall blonde from behind the bar, was standing in the doorway, holding the door open while shakily telling the group of men outside that she would call the cops if they started anything. 

He stepped up beside her, motioned for her to go back inside, and pulled the door closed behind him. On the sidewalk in front of the Stonewall, stood a group of seven or eight men, all wearing shirts that advertised the current president's initiative. He wanted to roll his eyes at just the sight, but kept a cool exterior as he crossed his arms over his chest and moved to stand before them.

Whoever the leader was, he stepped forward like a puffed up retired football player, all 20-years-forgotten muscle and pompous attitude. 

"Who are you?" The guy spit out. "Stonewall get a bodyguard for their fa—"

Bucky held up a hand, cutting the man off. "I'm gonna give you one chance to take your gang of idiots and go home. This is sacred ground, and if you intend to keep causing trouble, you'll be my problem to take care of." He shifted the metal arm, making the plates whir.

Another bozo pushed forward… this one was bald and had a swastika tattooed on his arm, the one he used to point at Bucky, while he said to his buddy, "I know who this dude is. He's Captain America's whore. The one with the pussy, that tries to act tough."

Bucky snapped. He had lived too long, been through too much shit, to let some wannabe nazi douchebag talk to him like that.

He struck with the speed of a viper, in a flash… quick but deadly. Within a blink, he had lashed out and punched the neo-nazi square in the nose. He was nice enough to use his flesh hand, but that was his only concession. 

Apparently that one move was all it took to set the group off. Suddenly it was eight men on him at once — which would have probably been difficult in an ordinary situation… but he was a damn supersoldier with a metal arm that could lift a car. 

The next few minutes passed by in some sort of trance. It was Steve’s voice in his head reminding him that though the men were idiots, they didn’t deserve to die by his fists… so it was a lot of well placed hits that left the men knocked out on the ground. When he finally gained awareness of what was happening, he realized that he was being shoved into the backseat of a police car. _Huh._

“Thank you, Bucky!” A voice called, and he saw Charlie giving him a thumbs up, right before the car door shut.

* * *

“Well this is definitely new.”

Bucky looked up from where he sat on the bed of a temporary cell… and immediately rolled his eyes at Steve’s grin. “They had it coming.”

“Oh, I definitely agree. Bet you had them on the ropes, too, huh?”

He had a sudden memory of small Steve fighting bullies. He couldn’t help the smile it brought to his face. “The old you would have been fighting right along with me.”

“Hate to tell you this, Buck, but the new me would have been too. I saw the men you knocked out. I heard what they were doing.”

Before Bucky could reply, Stark walked in with a police officer following begrudgingly. “Up and at’em, soldier! Don’t say I never did anything for ya…”

He got up and exited the cell when the door was opened as he got to Steve, he mumbled under his breath, “You let Stark bail me out?”

“His people had to handle the press. It uh… yeah, it’s a mess out there. We are instructed to lay low for a while.”

Bucky pouted almost immediately. “So I’m in trouble?”

Steve knocked his shoulder. “Nothing new there.”

* * *

The media storm lasted for about three weeks. Most of which Bucky spent either at therapy, or hiding out in the tower. He had thankfully gotten Charlie’s number while at the Stonewall and she got him in contact with a few others, and it took no time at all to create a Monday night games and movies thing. It was always fun, but despite him reminding Steve every week about it… his ‘roommate’ never showed up. 

_”Tonight is game night.”_

_“Oh? Yeah, Sam asked me to do a thing. Make sure to stay out of trouble.”_

There was _always_ an excuse, and as week three rolled into week four, Bucky was beginning to feel like Steve was avoiding him for some reason. Monday night, after everyone had left, he waited up in the living room, rather than go to bed like normal. 

It was after midnight by the time that Steve finally arrived back. Bucky was sitting in his favorite spot on the sofa, pretending to read while actually nervously going over and over in his head what he wanted to say. He watched Steve stop in the doorway when he noticed the lights still on. 

“Hey,” Steve said, voice unsure. He finally moved closer. “Everything alright? You’re usually in bed by now.”

Bucky fiddled with the book, before finally closing it and setting it aside. He stood, following Steve towards the kitchen and leaning against the island while Steve got a drink from the icebox. “I was hoping we could talk.”

The bottle of water came to a halt midway to Steve’s mouth, and he pulled back to look at Bucky. “Yeah?”

He coughed. Cleared his throat. Felt like the words were stuck somewhere near his esophagus. Bad thoughts had been running through his head for weeks. The kind of thoughts that he probably should have talked to Dr. Wesson about, but there he was… thinking he could act on things without prior guidance.

No one ever called him _smart._

The thing was… well, it had been _four weeks_ since Steve started pulling away. Suddenly instead of walking Bucky to and from therapy, he was having one of Tony’s drivers do it. And instead of small kisses here and there and snuggling on the couch… Steve was avoiding touching and keeping a large distance between them. 

It really only meant one thing, right?

The fingers on his flesh hand started nervously rubbing along his metal thumb (a habit that had developed over the last year). “I wanted you to know that whoever they are… I’m okay if you want to bring them around.”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What?”

“Even if — heaven forbid — it’s Sam or something. I mean, I kind of hate the guy, but if my best friend is dating him, I guess I’ll get over it.” It would be a serious hardship, though. Bucky might have to ask Dr. Banner for supersoldier anti-nausea pills. Just the thought of having to watch Steve and Sam kiss was bringing his dinner up for a reappearance…

“Dating? Wha…”

“Maybe we could have a no PDAs rule in the apartment?”

“Bucky—”

The way Steve was reacting made a thought pop into his head. “ _Oh._ Is this a gender thing? I guess it was my own fucking issues that made me assume that you were into guys too. You don’t have to be ashamed if you aren’t. I’m just as okay with you bringing a girl around. I mean it.” It only hurt a little to think that maybe the reason whatever they had, had stalled out, was because Steve finally realized he wasn’t into men...

Maybe more than a little.

“Bucky!”

He blinked, looking up to realize that Steve had set his water bottle down on the counter and was now standing in front of Bucky, hands holding his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“I’m not dating anyone, Buck.”

He frowned. “Oh.” Why did that feel worse? “So you aren’t rushing off to hang out with someone else… you’re just genuinely avoiding being around me?”

“Bucky.” Steve shook his head. “Why would you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You never want to meet my friends. As soon as I even mention game night, you’re rushing out the door with some kind of excuse.” Why did his voice sound like that? Why couldn’t he look Steve in the eye?

“I thought that was what you wanted, Bucky. You were so excited about these new friends, and I didn’t want to impose on your space. You never actually _invited_ me to be here, so I wasn’t just going to assume I could stay. I wanted you to feel comfortable having friends that weren’t the fucking Avengers. I mean, they’re all great, but fuck, we need lives outside of this tower… _all of us._ ” Steve wrinkled his nose. “Nat and Clint got into an argument about carrots and peas the other day. Like what the— nevermind, not the point. The point is, if you want me to meet them, then _okay._ ”

“That’s not—” Bucky was struggling for words again, his brain a mess that was starting to frustrate him. “I want you to _want_ to meet them,” he finally said, a little louder and angrier than intended.

Steve took half a step back, hands coming up in front of him. “I do, Buck.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! I want that!”

The frustration spiraled. “Like you want me? Only sometimes, yeah? Only a little. You’ll probably just say hi and then make another excuse to walk out because wanting things is so—”

“Bucky.”

It was too late. His pent up feelings had found a way to escape. He slammed his flesh hand down on the island counter. “Maybe you’ll just want to meet the females, huh? Maybe you prefer to spend more time with them. The males are more difficult to love. They complicate things, right?”

_”Bucky.”_

“You think it’s okay at first, spending time with the guys, but then you remember how easy it was to just be around the girls. Wouldn’t it be so nice if you could go back to that, you think. You miss those simple days when you could just—”

“God damn it, Bucky! For once in your life just _shut up_ and listen!” Bucky closed his mouth, looking back up at Steve. He hadn’t heard that tone in _decades._ Steve pushed his hand back through his hair, then shook his head and focused on Bucky. “I love you, okay? I love you with absolutely every _inch_ of my goddamn soul. There is no part of Steve Rogers that doesn’t love every part of Bucky Barnes.”

“But—”

Steve held up a finger. “Nope. Not yet, got it?” He waited to make sure Bucky would remain quiet, before continuing. “We’ve never had this discussion. We should have done this a long time ago, but I’ll admit to being a little bit scared and a little bit uninformed. People weren’t _transgender_ when we were kids, right? So I saw you taking this journey and I didn’t know how to help you with any of it. I could be supportive, of course, but I didn’t know what support was needed or when it was warranted. During the war, I kept your secret, that was easy enough. But then we both ended up here, in this new world with new words and lifestyles and I was lost.”

_Huh._ Bucky continued to let Steve talk, but he was having a hard time keeping the emotions off of his face.

“You started therapy and when I told Sam about that, he said that maybe it was a good idea if I did the same. He was right. But the more I talked with my therapist about how to react to certain things, the more afraid I grew. I didn’t want to fuck up, okay? I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make you angry, or do the wrong thing, or…” Steve cut off, shaking his head. “The point is, I have been very anxious over all of it. That doesn’t mean that there could ever be a version of _you_ that I wouldn’t want to be with. It simple means that I have no idea how to tell you, without fucking this up.”

It made sense, when he stopped to think about it, that Steve would be struggling just as much. He could put himself in someone else’s shoes long enough to realize that. If he had problems making sure he called his new friends by the right pronoun, why was it so hard to believe that Steve would have the same issues? It wasn’t.

Bucky ducked his head and mumbled, “I love you too, for the record.”

He glanced up just in time to see the softest of Steve’s smiles. “I know, Buck.”

“I just… I feel like there is this _thing_ hanging over our heads, right? Like for a while we were making it work, you and I, but we were both so scared of whatever the next step was, so we started walking backwards instead.”

Steve snorted. “You can just call it sex, Buck.”

“Punk,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe.” Steve reached out, laying his hand on Bucky’s chin and forcing him to look up. “If we take that step, and have sex… just, get past that first time fear, do you think things will get better?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe? No way to know without trying, I suppose.”

“What does Tony call it? Testing a hypothesis?”

“Nope.” Bucky shook his head and pulled away. “I ain’t doing this if you’re gonna talk about Stark in the middle of—”

Steve cut him off with a kiss. And not the simple, chaste things that had been happening before. A _kiss._ Lips and teeth and tongue and some kind of strangled noise from the back of Bucky’s throat.

Bucky would gladly admit to the fact that he had imagined sex with Steve on more than a few occasions. He had experience, of course, a few memories, but that was _before._ When boobs were still a thing that mattered. Which was a thought that honestly made him laugh! Steve pulled back from where his kisses had been traveling down Bucky’s neck, and frowned. 

“Did I… miss something?”

He laughed again, completely unable to stop the sound. “I just realized how much I _don’t_ miss my fucking boobs. Dr. Wesson and I have gone back and forth for months over which part of myself I connect best with, and it isn’t everything, of course, but gah… you couldn’t _pay_ me to take those things back.”

Steve nodded, standing close and looking down Bucky’s body. “I bet…” his hand moved, slipping from somewhere on Bucky’s waist, up beneath his shirt, “that you can be just as sensitive without them.” Steve found a nipple, tweaked it just right, just enough to have Bucky shuddering at the sensation. “Besides,” Steve teased, “they were a handful.”

It took a moment for the words to really sink in, and when they finally did… Bucky slapped Steve’s chest hard enough to push him backwards. They were both laughing, of course, but Bucky was also shaking his head. “I can’t believe you said that. That was… _really_ bad.”

“I had to!”

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Bucky informed him. Steve raised an eyebrows that clearly said: _’oh yeah? I dare ya!’_ … Which meant that it only made sense for Bucky to lunge for him. Steve was Captain America for a reason, though. Suddenly Steve was turning and running, a full on sprint through the large apartment towards the master bedroom. Bucky followed without hesitation, catching him right as they made it to the bed, and tackling him onto the mattress.

Steve, flat on his back, looked up at Bucky with the largest cheshire cat grin he could manage… and Bucky knew he had been played. “You wanted this,” he announced, even if it was pointless.

Steve smirked. “I’ve been trying to get you in my bed for a long time, Buck.”

He rolled his eyes and his hips simultaneously. “All you had to do was ask.”

“I know,” Steve answered. His hands laid on Bucky’s hips, thumbs brushing back and forth in something close to soothing. “But I wanted to do everything on your time, I hope you know.”

“So I’m the boss?” he arched an eyebrow.

“ _Always._ ” 

“Good.” Bucky stood back up and quickly removed his own clothes. “Then this is how things are going to work—” when he glanced back at Steve, he saw the outline of a beautiful erection that was just a _bit_ more enhanced than it used to be in the 30s. “You’re going to suck on my cock until I come, and then I’m going to ride you until you’re begging me to let _you_ come.”

It wasn’t hard to see the shudder that ran over Steve’s body. “I can… I can do that. Want me naked? Or just like this?”

Bucky grinned, climbing back onto the bed. “You’re going to stay just like that. No touching, except for that mouth of yours. Don’t make me find some rope—”

Steve’s pupils were blown as he obediently tucked his hands back behind his head so that he couldn’t touch. As Bucky straddled his face, Steve moaned. “Fuck, I love you.”

* * *

[](https://i.imgur.com/d6b665u.jpg)

* * *

When he first started doing research about Stonewall and the resulting riots, he found numerous pages about how Pride month was started in June as a way of remembering and honoring. When he found that the upcoming parade would be celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the riots, he started planning to participate. 

It was something that he didn’t really think to mention to Steve, though. Not because he wouldn’t love to have Steve there with him… but just because it had honestly slipped his mind to ask. 

He woke up that Sunday not at all surprised to find the bed empty beside him. Steve, the idiot, had never learned the beauty of sleeping in past seven. What was surprising was the t-shirt folded perfectly on the bedside table. He sat up, frowning a little as he grabbed the shirt and unfolded it. It was a basic gray shirt with the words _’THIS IS WHAT TRANS LOOKS LIKE’_ written on the front in blue, pink, and white. 

“Charlie asked me at game night if I was going with you,” Steve said. Bucky looked up to see Steve leaning casually against the open door of the bedroom. “I went looking for my own shirt and saw that… thought you might like it.”

It was then that Bucky noticed Steve’s shirt… a simple white tee that had Captain America’s shield on it… only it was painted purple, blue, and pink, instead of the normal red, white, and blue. Written on the shield were the words _’IT’S STARS AND STRIPES’_ , with the ‘and’ stylized for impact. Bucky laughed. “You are going to piss people off.”

“Ask me if I care.”

He laid the new shirt carefully on the bed, before getting up and crossing over to kiss Steve in thanks. “I love it.”

Steve grinned, scratching at the back of his neck, before motioning behind him. “By the way? Apparently I let it slip that we were going and now all the Avengers are also participating. I think Tony might have bought a float? If it’s too much, we totally have permission to ignore them all.”

“Charlie is going to have a fit.”

“More than likely. Also, I’m pretty sure that Stark condoms are now a thing? Apparently they’re flavored.”

“I’m going to get dressed just so that I can see this train wreck happening in real time.”

He walked back over to grab his new shirt, before moving towards the bathroom. Then he remembered that Thor was on world, at the last team dinner. “Does Thor have a shirt?”

Steve immediately laughed. “Oh yeah. Tony had one made for him. It says: _’THIS GOD LOVES GAYS.’_ ”

“Perfection.”

“Don’t tell Tony that. He might start a clothing line.” Steve made a shooing motion with his hands. “Hurry up. I have bagels.”

“I might love you.”

“You definitely love me, because I also have coffee. The sugary crap that Charlie got you liking.”

“Love!” He yelled, closing the bathroom door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this work, please feel free to follow me on [tumblr.](https://archofimagine.tumblr.com/)


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